It’s done. 186 votes of a possible 203 for the plump Swiss puppeteer. Those who crossed him are left out in the cold, while his sycophants look forward to their allocation money.
And so, a song for Sepp:
Sepp, you play the crooked game better than any ever could. It’s impressive, really, but it’s also sickening. Now, we retreat to our bunkers and conjure up visions of rank rebellion, and while you wait for us to strike, you guzzle down another brick of foie gras and reflect. But you know, deep down, that your time is coming. These charades only work so long before fraying and eroding away to nothingness. And when that time comes, you’d better be ready.